


Don’t Look Back

by SpaceshipsAreCool



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, F/F, Mental and physical war injuries, Rating will go up later, and the full cast of characters, non-binary Dimity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-05-19 22:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14882156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceshipsAreCool/pseuds/SpaceshipsAreCool
Summary: When the burnings of the 17th century threatened to put an end to all magic, the witches and wizards of the time made a deal with non-magical governments to secure their continued survival. The deal only had two conditions. The first was easy enough; to live in secret. But the second? They would have to hunt down and destroy their most powerful allies, the dragons who had served as their familiars for generations.Now, several hundred years later, some in the magical community want to forget the shame of that betrayal, but Ada Cackle isn’t one of them. Neither is the strange new potions mistress who appeared shortly after the expanding nearby city forced Ada to move the location of her school into the shadow of a towering mountain. The same mountain that history remembers as the site of the final battle with the ice dragons who once roamed the skies.





	1. Prologue

Hecate couldn’t hear the screams anymore, not since that last explosion had downed the dragon to her right. Or maybe… there was no one on her left either. Had the explosion come from there? She shook her head, trying to gauge on which side the ringing was worse, but that only made her lose the rhythm of her wings and falter dangerously in the sky.

 

That couldn’t be allowed. There were rules to flying after all. Rules about best posture, wing beats per minute, safe distance… rules she had meticulously compiled over numerous sleepless nights, taking into account every scrap of data she could find on battle logistics and magical practice. It was what had kept her alive all these years.

 

So the explosion, it had to have come from her right. Samson always flew there, and no matter how many times she snapped at him, he never had learned how to follow her guidelines.

 

He should have listened.

 

If he had, he would have been flying in proper formation farther away, and the spell that slipped through the back ranks never would have hit him. It never would have torn him apart so close to her that the shockwave had deafened her ears.

 

She should have _made_ him listen.

 

She didn’t know how he had survived this long.

 

The thought was bitter in her mouth, flooded with memories of a wing folded over his flank, or a tail laid under his chin during the twilight hours when the nightmares wouldn’t leave him alone. Just to keep him quiet so she could work, she would tell him, but it was a lie neither of them believed. Not that it mattered. There wouldn’t be any more comfort for him anyway.

 

As for her left, no one had flown there since Morgana, two months ago. Morgana, who had gone up in flames the night their camp was attacked, and who perished along with half their remaining forces. Hecate remembered that now, but she wished she didn’t.

 

Ice dragons weren’t supposed to burn.

 

If they didn’t reach the mountain, it would happen again.

 

The muscles in her neck twitched, a spasm after hours of flying, and her head came dangerously close to disrupting the aerodynamics of her flight. She stopped it just in time, keeping her face forward and her eyes firmly fixed on what lay ahead.

 

 _“But how many of us are left behind?”_ The question invaded her mind.

 

They had been spotted just after midnight a day ago. Dragons might fly faster than a witch or wizard, but they couldn’t rest on another’s broom, and with the complexity of their elemental scales and delicate wings, they also couldn’t use the same mid-air transfer spells.

 

As the hours passed they had begun to lose ground. And then the witches and wizards had caught up.

 

 _“You can do it quickly."_ She thought. _"_ _Just so you know how many of your people... how many of your family are still alive.”_

 

A part of her wanted to, desperately. But the other part, the one that had been raised on the battlefield, that had grown to adulthood over the last ten years of war, knew that there were more important things than some silly desire.

 

Like flying as fast and true as possible. Like not dwelling on the fact that if she paused, even for a moment, she wouldn’t have to bother counting the survivors. There wouldn’t be enough of her left to care.  She pushed herself on.

 

 _“There!”_ The mountains range had been visible and growing larger since midday, but now the craggy rock that marked the entrance to the hatching grounds of the ice dragons came into view, and in a few more aching breathes she was in position. Folding her wings tightly against her back, she angled for the quickest and surest decent.

 

The spell struck her without warning, a glancing blow that would have killed her if her form had been any less perfect, her speed ever so slightly decreased. But the lightning tore up her left hindquarter and along her back between her shoulder blades nevertheless; ripping open her flesh and cauterizing as it went.

 

Pure, unadulterated panic saturated her system. Thoughts spun past too quickly for her to grasp, and she flailed in empty space. But as she twisted, her wings unfurled, somehow managing to keep her aloft long enough to crash through a smaller opening just to the side of her target. One of her wings snapped on impact. She barely noticed the additional wound against the agony of the first, which was unrelenting, even after the spell had dissipated.

 

But then there was light. All around her ice crystals were glowing, a gentle blue that was quickly growing stronger as they welcomed her back, recognizing the first dragon to land here in years. It grew more intense, pooling in the ice crystals closest to her, and tendrils from the brightest shards stretched out. They covered her wounds, leaving a thin layer of pliable ice in their wake. Slowly the pain started to recede, not leaving her entirely, but enough that her mind began to clear.

 

And her ears, though it took her a moment to realize that the only screaming she could hear was her own.

 

The screams gave way to short gasps as she ran out of air, her body straining as she forced herself to roll over. She could move again—barely—and she clawed her way to her feet through the pain, taking in the full extent of her surroundings.

 

She wanted to start screaming again.

 

Today was supposed to be the culmination of everything they had worked for, of all the sacrifices they had made. They had stayed away from this place, which might have offered some a temporary safe haven or place to rest, but they hadn’t been able to risk even the smallest chance of leading a human back here. Not until they had reached this point, when the eggs inside were old enough and stable enough to endure the last resort; when the living spirit that inhabited these grounds and kept the next generation safe during the 15 year maturation cycle would even allow them to enact the intended measure in the first place.

 

Today was supposed to deliver them, but it was all going wrong. She was only a few yards from the main chamber, but those yards were through solid stone, and without flying the only pathway between them was one too small for an adult dragon to fit through.

 

“No,” she tried anyway, stumbling towards the tunnel, raking her claws uselessly over the stone. “No, please!”

 

The ice twinkled in sympathy.

 

“Heal me!” She turned on it, lashing at some of the larger crystals with her tail. “Please, just… I need...”

 

Nothing happened. Of course not. The magic in this place was meant to protect and nurture the eggs. It might spare a little for an adult like her, but nothing more. Certainly not enough to make her wing usable again anytime soon.

 

Calling on her own magic, Hecate tried to work a healing spell, but it was just as futile. She had started burning up her power after the tenth hour of flight, her muscles no longer able to support her on their own. From that point on her body had been converting her magic into energy, and there wasn’t enough left for even the most basic of spells.

 

Hecate sank down, craning her neck through the tunnel, trying to catch a glimpse of what she had come to protect.  Her reach was nowhere close to what was needed.

 

She closed her eyes, feeling the gaping hole inside her where others should have been.

 

The previous generation had been too young when the war started. They hadn’t died as quickly as the older dragons who were already bound to their witches or wizards, but the young ones had still been too weak to last for long. Not that Hecate hadn’t tried. But in every instance, her trying had meant watching them die.

 

And each time one had, Hecate had added another rule or regulation that might have saved them to her list.

 

She couldn’t let it happen again.

 

Realization dawned over her, and she shuddered as it set in. She couldn’t work any spells, but if she shifted…

 

Shifting wasn’t a spell, it was different than a transformation. A transformation was changing oneself from one thing into another, while shifting was simply stepping into your other self. Which all dragons had; a self without wings or scales. But it was a shape she had never been comfortable with, one whose very idea had become abhorrent to her since the outbreak of the war.

 

It would also strip her of the protection her scales provided against locator magic.

 

Right now the caster of the last attack had probably been too far away to see where exactly she had fallen. To a human, one mountain craig looked much like another after all. If she shifted however, her presence would be picked up instantly by one of the witches or wizards assigned to scan for her kind at all times. While they might avoid transferring directly into unknown tunnels, the spell would still lead them right to her. And she would be stuck in that form for over a day.

 

But if she didn’t shift, they would find her soon enough anyway, and she couldn’t count on the others. Not if with all her perfection and study she had still been hit. Not if there had been no formation left behind her to counter the blow.

 

Hecate didn’t look down at her body as she shrank, crawling forward with her head rigid and upright so she wouldn’t see what had become of her forearms. Something, _hair_ , was flowing over her shoulders, and her back and injured leg protested with each movement. But then she was through, turning the last corner and the main chamber of the hatching grounds lay before her.

 

It was a giant, ovular space, with a number of entrances of various sizes leading to other rooms and caverns throughout the mountain. Only the largest entrance faced outwards. Part of the wall and ceiling at the base of the oval opened to the sky and provided a clear view of the surrounding area. That was where she should have arrived, the ground within providing more than enough room to stretch her wings without hitting any of the several hundred eggs nestled along the walls, each covered in its own blanket of glowing ice.

 

There was no time to stop though, to breathe and remember that there was still life. She continued crawling until she had reached the only other notable structure in the room. Oval, like the cavern itself, the slightly raised platform in the center held the name of every ice dragon who had ever lived. It had already gown in anticipation of the next birth, fresh ice preparing itself for tiny claws that hadn’t yet been given the opportunity to make their mark.

 

They would never get that opportunity, if she failed.

 

“Please,” she begged the chamber, vision spotting as she struggled to pull herself onto the platform. She grit her teeth and made it over the edge, her fingers blindly searching for the scratches she herself had made twenty-nine years ago, feeling the different grooves until she found the ones that belonged to her. It was where her connection would be the strongest, providing the best chance of success. “We have to save them, it’s the only way.”

 

The ice remained silent.

 

“Please!” She slammed her fist down, her new arms not even making a dent. “You have to do this!”

 

Nothing.

 

It was never supposed to have been her. Or at least, not her alone. She was in front because she was one of the fastest, but she was only supposed to get things ready so that when the others arrived, they could activate the chamber’s final protection mechanism together. But now the chamber wasn’t even going to let her do the first step, and of course it wouldn’t. She had never been a leader, curling up into herself and counting her rules each time the world outside became too much to bare. It could see that inside of her—that fragility, that brokenness—and it didn’t want her.

 

The children were all going to die. Again.

 

A tear slipped out. It trailed down her cheek, tracing over soft flesh where there should have been hard scales, mapping a face she had never wanted to wear. When it fell, it did so quickly, tumbling with the same loss of grace that had taken so many of her people from the sky.

 

It wasn’t until the hum started that she looked down. Where the tear had landed, a low rumble was emerging, spreading out around her faster and faster until the entire chamber was vibrating with it. The noise ceased just as quickly, but through her hands Hecate could feel the pulse, could sense it burrowing deeper and deeper into the mountainside with each beat.

 

A relieved sob passed her lips, even as her arms were shaking with the exertion of keeping her upright, and she knew the chamber’s compliance was something she didn’t deserve. But it wasn’t for her. The chamber wasn’t doing anything for her. It was all for them.

 

She started counting in her head, taking in the sight of as many eggs as she could and memorizing their unique spots and patternings. They would be safe soon. All they needed was three more minutes for the chamber’s magic to spread. Three minutes, in which time the other dragons were supposed to have been arriving to stand by her side.

 

The ice near one of the entrances turned red, a warning that an intruder, a human, was approaching from a different tunnel. It was farther off than the one Hecate had come through, but probably not far enough, and she cast around for some way to defend herself.

 

There was none. She didn’t have enough magic of her own to offer any resistance, and she couldn’t move from this spot without cutting off the preparations.

 

Fear whispered in her mind, urging her to run. It was what she had been doing for years, and she was so very good at it. So what was one more time? But she knew. One more time meant the end. They would find her anyway, and when they did, she would die without even the shred of hope she had now. Nothing was worth that. She curled her fingers into the ice, rooting herself to the spot.    

 

Over the next ninety seconds the ice turned darker, and by the time the witch stepped into view, the ground under her feet was black.

 

“Hello there,” the voice was tender, but the curve of her lips was cruel, and Hecate shrank back as much as she could without moving her hands.

 

But even as she wanted to run, there was another feeling, a craving that every dragon carried next to their heart. Because it was never supposed to be like this, dragons trying to exist on their own. They were supposed to be partners, familiars bound to a human they would serve. It was such an innate part of their being that Hecate still felt it now; the desire to press in close, to nuzzle into the other woman and let her scent wash over her; for the witch to stroke her and tell her that it was all over, that they had been wrong to attack the dragons, and that it was finally time to come home.

 

“Don’t worry dear, I’ve got you.” The witch moved closer, her hands open and friendly, but Hecate could see the gleam of magic on her fingertips, and with a jolt she realized what the woman was intending.

 

If the witch simply wanted her dead, she would be so already, but luckily the woman had no idea what Hecate was doing. She thought she had time, and so she was planning another approach.

 

Snarling, Hecte straightening her shoulders, trying to give the impression that she had more fight left in her than she did. The witch slowed and eyed her cautiously, assessing, but she didn’t stop, and the hand extended towards her until it was almost touching her face.

 

“Shhh… it’s ok. I’ll be so gentle, I promise.”

 

Hecate snapped her neck forward, biting down with all she had, insufficient as her current teeth were for the job. Howling the witch jumped back, cradling her hand and dropping any pretense of care.

 

“Have it your way then.” Her voice became pitched and angry, and her uninjured hand started to weave the spell. But Hecate had done it. The cavern’s preparation would finish first.

 

There was a cry in the distance, not the scream of a dragon in death, but one of victory as another of her kin spotted the opening. She didn’t know who it was, but they would be diving soon. Closer, closer…

 

The witch’s spell was closer still, and if she was allowed to complete it, it would drain Hecate.

 

Bile rose in her throat, the impossibility of her choice sinking in. She might not have any magic of note left, but her life force was still intact, and it was that the witch was going to steal. It would be converted into power that Hecate herself couldn’t access, and then it would be used in the service of her people’s murderers.

 

It would also undo all the cavern’s preparations, and when the other, exhausted dragon arrived, it would be too late. The witch, fueled with Hecate’s life force, would dispatch the new arrival easily.

 

But there could be more out there, the battle lost but a few managing to dodge long enough to make it this far. Even now they could be coming, and if she turned she might see… more of the ice was changing color, other humans already invading the caves.

 

If Hecate turned to look she would waver. And then she would die. And no matter how many dragons arrived, there wouldn’t be another three minutes to spare.

 

A second dragon’s cry rent the air.

 

The witch drew back her arm, ready to finish her spell.

 

_“New rule…”_

 

Hecate grasped onto the pulsing energy that was still flowing through her hands, yanking to call it forth from every crack and fissure inside the mountain. All around her, the walls erupted with ice. A cold so deep only one of her kind could survive it flooded the chamber and tunnels beyond. In the last moment before she was encased, she heard a third cry. But it was too late, and her final thought froze with her.

  
_“Don’t look back.”_


	2. Chapter 1

Ada read over the letter, fixing a few typos and smoothing out a several lines to ensure that whichever bureaucratic desk jockey received her application would feel adequately important. It was only her third year since inheriting the position of headmistress of Cackle’s Academy from her mother, and her lack of experience and connections were a constant weight around her neck. She had to work extra hard to solicit additional resources, but with careful wording and the right level of charm, she thought she was doing a passably decent job.

 

Reaching the end of the letter, she frowned as she realized something was missing. Shifting in her seat so the natural light from the large open windows at her back could more fully fall over her mahogany desk, she skimmed it again. Sure enough, the request for a temporary potions mistress to fill in until she could organize a more thorough search was absent, and she mentally berated herself for the slip. It was an easy enough fix though; there was already a simple spell on the paper which enabled the letter to alter itself around any new lines or changes she had to add.

 

Raising her pen, Ada located the appropriate spot and--  

 

Her hand spasmed as her entire body clenched at the feeling of inherent wrongness. The pen dropped from her fingers and her hands moved to her waist, wrapping around her middle in an attempt to hold herself steady.

 

Someone was touching Pendle.

 

She could feel them stroking his fur, gripping tightly as he attempted to squirm away, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the invasion.

 

This... _unpleasantness_ , if you could reduce it to just that, wasn’t an unknown feeling to her, but she didn’t think it was one she would ever fully come to terms with. All witches and wizards were taught from a young age that they weren’t supposed to touch another’s familiar, but until their own bonds had been formed and then cemented by time, they couldn't truly understand how personal the relationship really was. Pendle didn’t help matters with his tendency to wander the halls of the stone castle without her to check on both the school and the other familiars, and it was only to be expected that every now and then, one of Ada’s young charges would try to pick him up.

 

And when they did, as headmistress, Ada had to keep a certain level of decorium. Even if that meant ignoring every fiber of her being which was screaming out for her to transfer immediately and snatch her cat away.

 

“Three. Two. One.” She breathed on each count, willing her heart rate to slow and her thoughts to calm.

 

It helped, a little. But as her mind cleared, she realized something else. Term hadn’t started yet, wouldn’t, for another two weeks.

 

The unsettled feeling began to fade, replaced with anger that years of practice quickly wore down to simple annoyance, and she sighed. With students out of the picture, there was only one person who would both be able to get past the wards unannounced, and who would do this.

 

Optimistically, Ada had thought appointing her sister as deputy headmistress would have tempered her somewhat, but her twin had never had a familiar of her own, and as the younger sibling she was allowed some degree of mischief. That same mischief was how it had started actually, Agatha’s refusal to take a familiar just another one of her efforts to agraviate their mother into paying attention to her, although it was somewhat baffling to Ada why Agatha hadn’t relented since. But she supposed it was just Agatha being Agatha, and Ada had to love her anyway.

 

That didn’t mean she had to give Agatha the satisfaction of seeing just how much her little joke had ruffled her, though.

 

Sending an apologetic thought to Pendle through their bond for making him wait, Ada looked around her office, searching for the tea she had made earlier. It took a few moments, and she had to shove aside several piles of work, but eventually she moved a last stack and the bookshelf across the room came into view. The china cup was sitting balanced perfectly on the third shelf with the magical herbs textbooks, abandoned there who knows how many hours ago, and she stood on shaky legs to cross to it. Picking it up, she concentrated on holding it steady, and only when she could take a sip of the now cold drink without trembling, did she set it aside and prepare to make her exit.

 

“Agatha,” the name spilled from her as soon as the transfer was complete, slightly exasperated, but at least not letting on how high her distress had been a minute ago. “You do know there are better ways of informing me you’re home, don’t you?”

 

“Well met to you too, sister,” Agatha rose from her seat—well, Ada’s seat, the ornate chair at the head of the Great Hall intended for her—releasing Pendle onto the staff table as she offered a bow along with a playful smile that was less than apologetic. “I knew you would be locked away in your office poring over some administrative form or other, and this seemed like the best way to get your attention.”

 

Ada gave a short bow of her own, tracking Pendle as he jumped down to the floor and walked stiffly to where she was standing, in front of the other, longer dining tables that would soon be filled with students.

 

It was only after he had brushed against her side reassuringly, that her eyes snapped back to her sister, her brow furrowing. Agatha had been looking forward to the Education and Politics Conference all summer, and Ada had never known her to cut anything she could twist into a vacation short. But the only thing Agatha loved more than herself, and maybe Ada, was this school. Something had to be wrong.

 

She opened her mouth to ask, but Agatha beat her to it, the playful smile fading as she did.

 

“The city is expanding. Construction started last month, and by the end of the week the groundwork will be laid for a section that falls within thirty miles of the school.”

 

“That’s not possible.” Ada’s voice was strangely calm.

 

Because it just wasn’t.

 

Every since the agreement, now known simply as The Treaty, which had saved their community from the rampant fear and executions of the seventeenth century, witches and wizards had hidden themselves away from all but a select branch of the non-magical government. Both side took any potential for re-exposure very seriously. There were guidelines laid out for how close major magical centers could be to non-magical hubs, and carefully negotiated contracts to safeguard the land around already established institutions. Cackle’s Academy was protected by one such contract, so Agatha’s claim had to be unfounded.

 

“You were lurking and listening in on conversations you weren’t supposed to again, weren’t you? Someone must have noticed and decided to teach you a lesson. That’s all there is too it. There was no need for you to rush home.”

 

“That’s what I thought at first too, but I looked into it just to be sure.” Agatha started to make her way out from behind the staff table, the sharp click of her heels echoing through the room. “Six months ago, the previous liaison with the non-magics retired, and the council selected Wilhelmina Broomhead as the replacement. She renegotiated the contract without telling us.”

 

Ada sighed for the second time since Agatha’s return, and knowing her sister, probably not the last.

 

If Wilhelmina Broomhead ever was appointed to such a position of power, it really would be a disaster. The woman was a monster, a far-right activist with extremist beliefs. Not to mention she’d had a grudge against their family since she had been at school here with their mother, several decades ago. But Ada wasn’t worried. The council would never allow someone like her to represent their people.

 

Rubbing her temples against the building headache, Ada made a mental note to replenish the potions she kept on hand for Agatha-induced occasions such as this.

 

“Whoever it was really did a number on you if they were able to convince you of all that. Maybe we should hire them, I bet they’d find a way to make the girls listen to their chanting lessons for once. Now can we please put this theory of yours to bed and go have some tea?”

 

“Ada…” Agatha reached into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled form and coming close enough that she could press it under Ada’s nose. “I got my hands on this document--”

 

“You mean you stole it,” Ada tried to sound disappointed, but her headache was getting worse, making it hard to even pretend to have a level of authority over her sister.

 

“I, _reappropriated_ it, yes. But it was worth it. Just read it. Please. We don’t have much time.”

 

Ada didn’t want to, but for all her dismissal, there was a lingering, nagging doubt in the back of her mind. A whisper of what if it were true?

 

Giving in, she reached for the page, pushing her glasses more firmly up her nose before peering at the document.

 

It was a list, an official internal report detailing all the positions held by a group that called itself the W-First Party, along with appointment dates and brief descriptions.

 

“The far-right has been gaining power over the last few years.” Agatha’s voice was soft. “No one’s been taking them seriously, and as a result they hardly faced any organized opposition when they put forward candidates for council seats. At first it was just one or two, but that was enough to make more people start to feel comfortable expressing the same views openly. And in the last election…” she trailed off, but Ada could see the results, and her stomach rolled.

 

Ada tried to follow politics. With so much of her time and energy devoted to the school, however, it was clear there was a lot she had missed. She had heard of this party, at least. But the nonsense they spouted, about returning to the old ways—when witches and wizards had freely drained magic from the life around them and bound familiars into their service without reciprocating by tying their own minds and souls back—was so toxic, that just as Agatha had said, Ada hadn’t taken them seriously.

 

And the idea they had actually found followers, that they had gained enough power in government to influence council appointments... it was too… Wilhelmina Broomhead’s name was right at the very top.

 

It was all true.

 

Ada sank down slowly as the implications caught up with her, barely noticing when Agatha summoned a chair to stop her from falling. Blood was rushing through her ears.

 

The moment construction broke ground on land that would bring the city within thirty miles of the school, someone from the government would come to collect the Founding Stone; a powerful artifact that rooted the school to the surrounding area and provided magical stability that no institution filled with untrained witches and wizards could live without. The violence of the separation would result in a magical backlash that would render this area inhospitable to magic for years to come. As for the Stone itself, it would refuse to ever again acknowledge a Cackle witch or wizard, and thus be turned over to the next family currently in line to build their own institution.

 

Which in this case, meant it would fall into the hands of Wilhelmina Broomhead.

 

But surely… there had to be a conflict of interest. There was nothing she could do about the larger political situation, but her school… there had to be a way. She would petition all the way to the Great Wizard himself if need be.

 

“I need a mirror. And a list of names of people to contact. And--”

 

Agatha was shaking her head.

 

“It’s too late for all of that. By the time anyone listened, even if they agreed with you, the city would already be within the thirty miles and it wouldn’t matter.”

 

“But the students-”

 

“Ada, stop.” Agatha’s hand squeezed her shoulder, and for once Ada felt like the younger sibling.

 

Between the two of them, she was better with the students that Agatha, more sympathetic, more caring. But Agatha… Ada turned to her sister, taking in the sly look that was slowly spreading across her face. Normally Ada would be wary of such an expression, but if there was anyone who could find a loophole through less conventional means, it was Agatha. She just had to trust.

 

”You have a plan,” it wasn’t a question, and Agatha rewarded her with gleaming smirk.

 

“We move the school. The _entire_ school. Without removing the Founding Stone from its place.”

 

Ada scoffed. “We could move the building, yes, but that would rip the existing magical roots from the ground. They’d never survive the transition. When they die, the Stone will react exactly the same way it would if we just pulled it out of the castle in the first place.”

 

“Not if we move somewhere so saturated in magic already that the roots can’t help but latch on.” Agatha waved her hand, and a small table with a map appeared in front of them, a location already circled in red.

 

“No.” Ada’s skin crawled at the sight and she jerked back.

 

The first part of The Treaty with the non-magical humans might have saved lives, but the second part had doomed others, and the location Agatha had picked was at the foot of the mountain where the final battle of that sin had all played out.

 

The ice covered peaks were a lasting monument to the magical community’s betrayal of the dragons, of their decision to preserve their own kind by destroying a magical creature the non-magics feared more. That history was something Ada firmly believe in teaching her students, but there was a difference between making sure it was never forgotten, and being so close to such a place of nightmares.

 

“No,” she said again.

 

“There’s nowhere else. If we don’t, we’ll lose the school.” Agatha’s voice was coaxing, but Ada continued to resist, and her silence prompted her sister to continue. “No matter how passionate you are during your lectures on the war, many other people are finding it harder and harder to understand exactly what our ancestors did. They don’t get why the way we teach and practice magic needed to change. What do you think enabled the W-First Party to grow so powerful in the first place? But if we move there, the students will be looking up at that mountain every day and they won’t be able to write it off as just another story. And if we don’t… Wilhelmina Broomhead and her party will gain an entire school of their own to teach what they want.”

 

Shame filled Ada at those words. Agatha was right. It didn’t happen often, but Ada could admit when it did, and she reached out with her hand until Pendle took the invitation to jump on her lap.

 

It wasn’t just about the school. Ada was supposed to be an educator, a leader. It was her responsibility to make sure the ignorance that bread such a lack of compassion or basic decency and understanding was wiped out.

 

“What do we need to do?” Her voice was firm as she made up her mind, and Agatha’s face broke out in a triumphant grin.

 

“You see? That wasn’t so hard.”

 

“What?”

 

“Listening to my advice for once. I know you don’t like the way I do things, but I get results.”

 

A shred of doubt crept in again, a reminder that what they were about to do went against the spirit of the Witches Code, if not the letter of the law. But she shoved it aside. What Wilhelmina would do was far worse.

 

 _“Trust,”_ she mentally reminded herself, stroking Pendle with one hand while she raised her other and placed it in Agatha’s own. Out loud she repeated her question from earlier.

 

“Just tell me what we need to do.”

 

////////////

 

It wasn’t until hours later that Ada was alone again, eyes heavy and thoughts trudging by in a tired fog. The rest of the day after Agatha’s arrival had been spent in the library, the two of them poring over books and calculations to work out the mechanics of a relocation spell for something of the school’s magnitude. It was now well past midnight, but instead of crawling into bed, she was back in her office.

 

For the safety of the students, there were some reference books that were considered too dangerous to be kept in the public library, and before she and Agatha finalized the spell, there was one last source she wanted to check.

 

Shuffling over to her desk, Ada reached for the locked drawer that would open only for her. As she lowered her hand to it, her eyes fell on the resource application letter still sitting on top of the desk, and she clenched her teeth. She didn’t want anything to do with the magical government right now, and for a fleeting second she thought about burning the document. But that would be rash. She would only have to write it again.

 

Better to get it over with, she decided. Hopefully her requests would be approved before anyone thought to notify the requisitions department of the expected closure, or attempted to deny them as a retaliatory measure once the school was moved.

 

Before she could change her mind, she muttered a simple spell, and the letter folded and sealed itself neatly. With another word and flick of her wrist, it disappeared, and Ada returned her attention to the desk drawer. It opened with a soft click, and she fished out the book she had been after, tucking it under her arm. She would read it in bed.

 

Now, she just had to get there.

 

//////////////////

 

There was warmth around her, unwelcome after so long cocooned in blessed ice, and Hecate struggled to burrow in deeper. The warmth persisted, growing stronger as more and more of her body was exposed to sunlight, and it brought with it a sudden scream as the light reached her eyelids.

 

Light was bad, she knew it was. It meant fire, or lightning, or any other number of spells that would tear her and those she loved apart. Except… her eyes opened slowly.

 

Except there wasn’t anyone she loved left.


	3. Chapter 2

There wasn’t anyone she loved left.

 

But she wasn’t alone. There were shadows in the ice.

 

The sunlight that had woken Hecate was coming from behind, but she could feel it everywhere. It was reflecting off the smooth surfaces of the little hallow that had formed around her, crawling over her scales—no, _skin_ , a shudder rippled through her—and shining into her eyes.

 

And exposing the shadows.

She cringed away, shoulders hunching in on herself as she struggled to disappear. But the shadows were still there, becoming clearer and clearer as the open space around her expanded, and she was too afraid to close her eyes again in case they moved.

 

They wouldn’t… shouldn’t… but…

 

The layer of ice between her and the closest figure was almost gone, thin enough now that she could make out more than blurred edges. The woman’s lifeless face still held its victorious snarl, but it was the raised hand that caught Hecate’s attention. With the light dancing through the ice, Hecate could almost imagine she saw a glimmer of magic still on those fingers.

 

“NO!” The scream echoed off the walls, and something in the chamber itself responded to her cry. The ice stopped receding. But it didn’t rush back to envelop her again, and the sound of her own ragged breathing filled the air as her world continued to turn.

 

While the other dragons were all...

 

“No,” she managed to whisper it, curling her fingers into the ice as if she could drag it back up around her.

 

Another breath passed her lips.

 

The other dragons were all still...

 

“No,” she pleaded once more, body starting to shake.

 

Nothing.

 

They were all still gone.

 

With a sob she fell against the dais, wrapping her arms around herself as tightly as she could. The gazes of the entombed witches and wizards remained locked in her direction, sightless eyes boring into her, but she was the only one moving. The hint of magic on that woman’s fingers was all in her head.

 

No one else had survived.

 

She wondered if any dragons had crashed into the ice and broken their necks.

 

Hecate wished she had died with them. She didn’t belong here, with this clean sunlight and fresh air of a new day.

 

But she had made her choice.

 

Hecate’s sobs began to quiet, her body to still. Yes she had. She had made her choice.

 

Her head lifted.

 

There was more than sunlight in the hallow, it was also filled with the same, soft, blue glow she remembered from before. As she watched, the blue began to shift, collecting low to the ground in the few places that were unmarred by the shadow forms of humans. The glow intensified briefly, and then the ice under it became exponentially clearer, bringing the eggs that seemed so far away against the outer wall into sharp focus.

 

They were waiting. Not alive yet, but they could be.

 

Her hands closed into fists. It didn’t matter if she didn’t belong here.

 

It didn’t, because _she_ didn’t matter. There wasn’t enough of her left that wasn’t fear and hurt and loss—or worse yet, enough of her left that wasn’t drowning in the sins she had committed along the way—to matter.

 

The only thing that mattered where those eggs. The future they deserved to have.

 

But was that future now?

 

Hecate didn’t know, but something did.

 

 _“Is it safe?”_ She sent the thought to the chamber, through the connection of her bare skin against the ice.

 

There was a pulse of energy, an acknowledgement of her question. And then nothing.

 

 _“Why did you choose this time?”_ She tried again.

 

The chamber offered her a glimpse of the world outside. The mountain rose, tall and proud against the landscape of a surrounding greenery to the north and west, and a large, clear lake to the east. It looked similar to what she remembered, though the trees were thicker and the lake was slightly larger. She guessed a few hundred years had passed.

 

The image rotated, spinning slowly to show the south side of the mountain, and where she expected to see more forest, instead it was cloudy, the area obscured. She wondered why.

 

Then the pulse of energy came again, pushing her towards the cloud. Time sped up inside the image, moving into the future, the sun rising and falling in the sky too fast to count, and muffled, as if she was listening to it through a vast expanse of water, she heard laughter.

 

Her heart jumped.

 

Just as quickly as the spark of hope had ignited in her chest, a fiery hand gripped it and threatened to burn it out. The chamber could have been showing her the future that was waiting for her race now, land ready to be developed into a playground for newly hatched dragons, or it could have been something else. A threat on the horizon, one that could harm them unless she stopped it first.

 

She needed to know.

 

The image began to fade and she chased after it, but with the next pulse of energy, the chamber rebuffed her. Her mind was thrown back into her physical body, and the image was gone, taking the laughter with it.

 

She was on her own.

 

And she still needed the answer. The unborn dragons were counting on her. But she wouldn’t get it in here.

 

Hecate had to go outside.

 

Taking a deep breath, Hecate focused on her body, attempting to get it into a position that would let her stand. It felt foreign and wrong to her, and she wanted to be back in her own scales. They were itching under the surface, wings ready to burst forth, letting her know that even as the chamber had frozen her, it had also allowed her some degree of recovery. Enough that she would be able to shift again now rather than waiting a full, living day.

 

But what if the future she had seen was sinister? Humans on the horizon who were planning a settlement close to the mountain? A scouting party with warding spells already in place could explain they fuzzy image.

 

After this much time, they couldn’t be expecting dragons, but that could change quickly if she was spotted in her true form. This human body though… they could track her like this, just as the witches and wizards had done in the past.

 

Her scales called to her.

 

She resisted. There was no reason to maintain a tracking spell for a dead race, and unlike how she could recognize witches and wizards for what they were, they couldn’t tell her apart from another human on sight when she was like this.

 

So looking like her hunters was better. At least for the moment. At least until she could make sure it really was safe for the unborn. No matter how… no matter how it felt for her.

 

Hecate managed to maneuver herself so her weight was resting primarily on the balls of her feet and her knuckles. Carefully, she raised her first hand, then the second. And then she stoo--

 

Pain roared to life along the path lightning had taken across her body. She cried out as her left leg gave out from under her. The lost support pitched her forward, off the raised platform. Her shoulder crashed into the surrounding ice, and at her touch, a section of it retreated again, giving her more room.

 

And the witch’s body fell over her.

 

Her cry turned into one of terror, a panic that engulfed all rational thought. She struggled against the assault. The weight lessened and seemed to roll off, but she wasn’t free. She could feel hair on her body, flesh under her hands, and she lashed out, tearing at the human who had--

 

 _“Rule,”_ The thought broke through. _“Don’t damage yourself.”_

 

Hecate made that rule after a group of younger dragons snuck off to play. One of them hurt his leg, and when a scouting party of humans discovered them, he had been too slow.

 

But the hair against her arm was still there, and she swiped at it with long nails that left marks on her skin.

 

_“Rule. Be aware of yourself.”_

 

She had once seen a dragon give away her position because her tail twitched and she thought the flicker of movement was a human attack. When the dragon reacted, a real attack came moments later.

 

Where was the attack from now?

 

_“Rule. Be aware of the humans.”_

 

The witch lay sprawled next to her. Her hair tucked under a hat, and most of her skin covered by clothing.

 

The only thing Hecate fought was herself.

 

She stopped thrashing, disgust and shame rising up inside of her and coating her tongue with its acid taste. They were all dead, the witches and wizards inside the mountain with her.

 

And she knew that; was responsible for it. But at that touch, she lost all control.

 

It was no excuse.

 

She turned her head, seeking out the eggs again. The one closest to her had purple markings up its sides, the one next to that had yellow. They would both be quite beautiful when they were born, those colors standing out in stark contrast against the white of the rest of their scales. Not like the drab silver of her own markings, a blandness that had once been common, but that had already become a rarity by the time Hecate was born. It truly was a sign that she was a thing of the past.

 

These new dragons deserved so much better.

 

She couldn’t afford slips like this to happen again.

 

 _“You don’t matter.”_ She reminded herself. And then to be sure, she said it out loud. “You. Don’t. Matter.”

 

Hecate let it sink in, focusing on those words with all she had, absorbing them until her emotions began to numb and all of her rules and strict guidelines took their place. She would do better. She had to.

 

But in order to do anything else, she needed to make her body work.

 

Closing her eyes, Hecate reached for the magic she hoped was inside of her, as she should have done in the first place. She couldn’t feel it, but she pushed deeper, and… _there!_

 

Hecate gasped and her eyes flew open, back arching as the reserve of magic that had built up over the years woke from its coiled slumber and raced through her. It healed the scratches she had left in her panic, filling her up until she was thrumming with it, vibrating with more energy than she could remember having since the outbreak of the war.

 

There was still pain in her back and leg though, persistent along the scar even if it had reduced to a dull throb. And it was a scar—no longer a fresh wound, which explained why she hadn’t felt it until she moved—but as she probed it with her mind, her magic scrambled, unable to find purchase on the shriveled muscle and tissue within.

 

Hecate gritted her teeth. A user of her level didn’t need specific spells for every task. Once you had mastered the complexities of magic, it was oftentimes possible to manipulate it with a thought or gesture alone. But if whatever you were trying to do required a bit more force or precision, it was still better to use a spell, regardless of whether you chose to vocalize it or not.

 

Concentrating, she calmed the flood of raw power, shaping it into a healing spell and directing it towards the scar a second time.

 

It didn’t work.

 

She wasn’t surprised. For all the attack had been one of lightning, the the intent behind it was of utmost darkness, fueled by a desire to rend flesh and bone. A darkness like that was one you could never truly recover from.

 

But she didn’t need to recover. She had another rule, one that followed if the damage was unavoidable and already done.

 

“Mitigate it.” She concentrated again, and ice crystals began to form in her hand. “Whatever you need to do to keep going.”

 

The crystals joined together and grew into a single, long icicle, its top curving into the shape of a cane.

 

She was more careful when she stood this time, straightening her back fully and holding it rigid so it wouldn’t bend and send off a fresh spasm of pain. Using the cane to support her left leg, she managed to stand, but on her first step she realized her mistake.

 

Her fingers. She grimaced at them, just managing to steady herself before she fell again.

 

They had worked well enough for everything she had had to do with them thus far; curling to use her nails or even tracing over letters in the ice. But those were simple things, each finger moving in exactly the same way at the same time as all the others. Not like this.

 

Holding the cane and standing was easy enough, but any attempted step and subsequent arm extension required fingers that were able to adjust separately, each angling slightly differently to keep a firm grip. There were too many joints, completely unlike the elegance of a dragon’s paw, and she didn’t understand them.

 

Lifting her right, free hand, she studied the thing in front of her, eyes narrowing as she bent one finger at a time, pressing them against her palm. She did the movement several more times until she could manage a stiff, almost twirl that brought her fingers closed in succession instead of all at once.

 

It was still awkward, taking more effort than it should, and it was nowhere close to the level of usability she would require for a cane. She snarled in frustration.

 

Maybe there was some wisdom in different approach. A cane was an obvious sign of weakness, it painted her as a target, and however difficult it might be to actually use these hands, she would rather have both of them free than not.

 

So something else.

 

Her eyes fell on the witch at her feet, the body lying prone on her back with limbs haphazardly splayed to the side. Even like that, belly up and vulnerable, the urge to rear back, to run, sparked inside of her again.

 

But Hecate was in control of herself now, and she shoved her emotions away, forcing herself to look with detached objectiveness. The witch wore a long, black dress, made of some kind of heavy cloth and decorated with blue embroidered roses everywhere but on the high, upturned collar.

 

She would need clothes. As an ice dragon, Hecate might not get cold, even in this form, but if she did encounter anyone she would stand out if she was naked.

 

There could be other benefits as well, she realized, like the tight, leather corset that graced the witch’s waist outside of the dress. Hecate wouldn’t have to worry about her back if a corset held it straight for her. She could also make a brace for her leg that would be hidden under the dress, and a high collar would cover the top of the scar at the back of her neck and shoulder. Her movements would be stiff, but she hoped they would make her appear disciplined, not disabled.

 

It was the best option.

 

Before she could come up with an excuse, she reached out with her hand, performing the twirling motion she had practiced and summoned the clothes to her. She shuddered as they fit around her, their touch scratchy and repulsive as they altered to her size and came to rest against her skin.

 

Her back eased though, as the corset added support, and she pushed on, calling the rest of the items to her.

 

The hat came next, and then the shoes, with heels that added several inches to her height. They would have threatened her equilibrium, but she was ready for them.

 

As she’d expected, the witch had lined the heels with repository stones; a common practice to store or focus magic. The stones were empty of magic now, so as the shoes lifted her, Hecate began another spell.

 

The cane shrank and changed, becoming a small ball of magic that anchored itself deep within the hidden stone of the left shoe. Elemental ice, stronger than any metal, shot out and upwards, forming a thin, movable brace around her leg.

 

She was almost rea--

 

Something solid landed against her front, hitting just above the corset. Startled, Hecate looked down, and realized she had also summoned over a large, silver pocket watch. It hung from a long chain around her neck and there appeared to be some sort of intricate design on the front. She raised her hand and lifted it to get a better look at the etching.

 

A tangle of thorns circled ornate roses, identical to those on the dress. It must be a crest, but she didn’t know what witching house it represented. There was also a small clasp on the side. She doubted she would be able to work her fingers well enough to get it open manually, but she didn’t need to. It wasn’t ticking. The elemental ice of the chamber had stopped its gears as easily as it stopped its mistress’s heart.

 

The watch was perfect. She loved it.

 

Everything else about these clothes was too itchy, too close, too… too _that woman’s_. But they worked, unavoidably so. This watch, though, it was broken. Just like her. But broken things could still serve some purpose. Hers was to protect the future of others, not to feel or act outside of that aim. And from now on, the purpose of this watch would be to remind her of that.

 

It would not let her stray.

 

Hecate lowered the watch back and felt it settle against her breastbone with an almost comforting weight. As she let it go, she flicked her hand out in a dismissive wave towards the body of the witch. It disappeared, vanished to a void where it belonged.

 

On to the next task. Her hair.

 

Hecate directed a little more magic at herself, curling her hair up into braids that slipped under her hat and wrapped themselves around each other into a tight bun. She didn’t want to risk a repeat of earlier, flinching from her own hair and descending into another pitiful display.

 

Once it was secure, she smoothed her hands down the sides of the dress, letting herself adjust to its feel, and then slowly, carefully, she took a step.

 

The brace held.

 

There was a part of her that wished it hadn’t.

 

There was part of her that wanted another excuse to delay.

 

It was irrelevant.

 

Hecate turned. She saw the entrance that admitted the light and air that had woken her. The hallow around her was actually a tunnel that led outside the mountain.

 

She didn’t bother moving towards it. With her human eyes, she wouldn’t see anything from this high up, and even though Hecate could probably find a broom frozen somewhere in the ice, she shouldn’t fly down from here. She didn’t want any potential observer to see which direction she had come from.

 

So she would transfer. That was something she could do now, without her scales.

 

She smoothed her hands over the dress again, ignoring the beaded sweat they left in their wake.

 

Hecate had never transferred herself before, but she was going to have to get used to it. Even with the corset and brace, too much walking would be hard on her, and there was no point trying to preserve her magic for an emergency. She would only exhaust herself physically and have to use it to keep going anyway.

 

Besides, in theory, there was no difference between transferring yourself or an object. And she could do that.

 

But just because she could, didn’t mean she should be foolish about it.

 

She reached out towards the ice, pausing just before her fingers brushed its surface.

 

“Please,” she spoke to it. “Don’t open any more until I get back. For now, just guide me?”

 

Hecate bowed her head, driving other thoughts away as she concentrated on what she needed.

 

 _“Safe,”_ she focused. _“Take me somewhere safe.”_

 

She closed the distance, touching the ice and realising her wish against its surface.

 

In the moment of silence and concentration, a hunger she hadn’t noticed through everything else made itself known. She tried to yank her hand back, to recenter herself, but it was too late.

 

The transfer spell spun her around, guided by the presence in the chamber and sweeping her up in a jumble of thoughts of safety and food.

 

A bolt of magic hit her, a twinkle that mixed into her own, so tiny she almost missed it.

 

But then the world came back into focus, the mountain range large and white in front of her, everything aside from the cavern she had come from still frozen.

 

And a castle. Close enough that she could see the individual stones and count each of its too many turrets.

 

This wasn’t…the watch hung heavy around her neck, chain digging into her skin.

 

Maybe it was empty? She concentrated on that, breathing in and out in slow, even breaths.

 

The heavy wooden doors opened, creaking in a way that showed their age, and a witch rushed out.

 

_“Don’t panic! Don’t panic. Don’t…”_

 

It wasn’t safe. It wasn’t remotely safe. She had been prepared to see humans, even witches and wizards. But not right away. Not so close to her initial landing point. And not with a building that if inhabited, looked like it could hold hundreds of them.

 

It could only mean one thing.

 

The chamber hadn’t woken her because it was time. It had woken her because there was a threat, and now it was her job to make things right. She couldn’t allow herself to panic. She was only a tool.

 

And a tool did not run away.

 

The witch came to a halt in front of her, straight, blonde hair bobbing just above her shoulders. She was smiling, slightly wary, but she had no idea what Hecate was; she couldn’t.

 

“Well met, Miss…?” The words fizzled, strange sounding and incomprehensible for a beat before Hecate’s magic latched on and provided a translation, filling her head with other words and meanings as it did.

 

“Miss…?” The witch asked again, but then her eyes fell to the watch around Hecate’s neck, and the design of the crest that adorned it. “Hardbroom, is it?”

 

She smelled like snowbells, the bright, purple flowers that pushed their way through snowy banks to thrive on high mountain peaks. But it wasn’t a real smell, not in the way of smoke or spilled blood. It was the scent of the witch’s magic, calling to Hecate the same way that other witch had called to her in a distant past.

 

Except this pull was stronger, whispering of an inherent power that was vastly beyond anything the other witch possessed, and Hecate’s knees wanted to bend. She wouldn’t let them.

 

The witch bit her lip nervously at Hecate’s silence, a slip of uncertainty in sharp contrast to the level of ability she must have.

 

“I’m Ada Cackle, of course. But you must know that. I suppose the council sent you? For the potions mistress position?”

 

Hecate wet her lips. Her throat was so dry. And now the witc-, _Ada’s_ , smile was faltering, her expression becoming defensive.

 

“I’m sorry if you had trouble finding the place, but the relocation was necessary. I hope you can understand.”

 

Tension crackled through the air, the uncertainty rolling back to reveal a hint of a determination underneath that wasn’t quite cold, but wasn’t weak either.

 

Hecate had to say something.

 

Before she could, a flurry of movement under Hecate’s hat drew both of their attentions. A second later a small, furry creature poked its nose out from under the brim.

 

Hecate’s thought swirled. What…?

 

The transfer, of course. That bolt of magic had been another transfer, one she had initiated with her undisciplined thoughts of food. Thoughts that were still there, redoubling in urgency with the appearance of fresh meat within her grasp.

 

But she couldn't. She needed to think of a way to explain this to Ada.

 

Except that Ada seemed to be ahead of her, face relaxing at the unexpected turn.

 

“Hello to you too, little one,” Ada inclined her head, stepping closer even as she was careful to retain a respectful distance from the animal. The smile that had nearly vanished reappeared wider than before when the chipmunk—Hecate could see it now out of the corner of her eye—darted out to sniff at her curiously from Hecate’s shoulder.

 

“And what would your name be then?” Ada spoke again, addressing the chipmunk but looking at Hecate. The smell of snowbells intensified with Ada’s expectant stare.

 

The chipmunk rubbed its head against her neck.

 

Her mouth watered.

 

Ada raised an eyebrow.

 

“Lunch.” She blurted it out through the haze of sweetness and hunger.

 

“Lunch?” Ada’s eyes sparkled, her lip twitching in a barely contained laugh that she quickly smoothed over. “What an unusual name for a familiar. I look forward to hearing more about how that came to be. But first,” she paused, squaring her shoulders and surveying Hecate with new authority. “As headmistress, I officially welcome you to the teaching staff of Cackle’s Academy and extend to you both my pledge of friendship and protection. You may enter these grounds freely, Miss Hardbroom and Lunch.”

 

Magic that was older than most settled around Hecate, and wards she hadn’t been able to detect before opened up to accept her into their care.

 

She was trapped.


	4. Chapter 3

The bright tones of the great brass bell rang out over the courtyard, stopping Ada short in her pacing. There was no need to look up, she knew every stone and turret of the castle by heart, every individual creak and different ring, but she did so anyway. The worn white backing of the clock face mounted on the tallest tower stared back at her, hands that had long since turned green with age marking the half hour.

 

The clock had watched generations of witches pass through Cackle’s Academy, it was a steady, cheerful presence that had been there for Ada in all the times past. But today it wasn’t enough. The melodic sounds did nothing to calm the racing of her heart.

 

There were still thirty whole minutes left.

 

If a challenge from the council to the legality of their actions was going to occur, it would come before 9 AM, when the school officially opened for the new term. Classes were a few days off, but all magical institutions of education opened three days beforehand, giving students time to move in and get settled.

 

Internally, Ada begged the clock to move faster.

 

There was no change. The second hand ticked by just as slowly as before, and Ada’s nails cut into her palms.

 

“Ada!” Dimity Drill’s voice called out from behind her. The sound was followed by the loud bang of a heavy wooden door slamming shut and the crunch of a newly-laid gravel pathway. Quickly, Ada forced her hands to relax, plastering the calmest expression she could manage across her face. And then she turned around.

 

The young PE teacher was making their way towards her wearing one of the many variations of their prefered black and teal attire, this time in a combination of a tracksuit top and sweatpants. Their familiar, a flying squirrel named Imogen, launched herself off their shoulder and glided to the ground.  Once there she raced ahead to circle around Ada before sitting back on her haunches and chattering at Dimity to catch up.

 

“Yes, yes.” Dimity rolled their eyes, picking up the pace.

 

“Dimity, Imogen.” Ada greeted them both. “Have you come to welcome the students with me?”

 

Some of the tension began to ease as Dimity left the pathway to join her and Imogen on the grass. Company would be nice.

 

This was something Ada normally did on her own. Even though students could begin moving in as soon as the school opened, no one ever showed up right away. Usually they wouldn’t start trickling in until day two at least, so there was little point in waiting here this early. But ever since her first year as a teacher at Cackle’s, Ada had done so anyway. Just in case. And while normally she didn’t mind having the time to herself, a bit of quiet before the inevitable chaos of term, this year was different.

 

”What? Students? Isn’t it too…” Dimity glanced at the clock, realization dawning on their face before meeting Ada’s eyes again sheepishly. “I was actually just about to go out for a run. Learn the new terrain before classes start and all that. I was coming to ask you how far we were rooted thus far? I’d rather not get too close to the edge of the wards and only realize it when I’m stepping over the line.”

 

Of course. Ada should have known better.

 

Dimity was just as dedicated to the job and students as Ada herself, but if given the choice, they would never sacrifice precious minutes to ceremony if there was something practical they could be doing instead. And Dimity’s plan was practical, as well as being a good idea. Dimity _should_ get comfortable with the area before taking students outside the walls.

 

“The roots are spreading quickly,” she concentrated on recalling the latest information, shoving past her disappointment. “We’re almost at full saturation. If you head out to the south or west, you’ll be fine until you hit the treeline. To the east we have three-hundred yards into the lake covered at the last check. If you go north towards the mountain--”

 

Ada stopped mid-sentence when Dimity shook their head hastily.

 

Their mouth twitched into a lopsided grin. “Maybe another time.”

 

Ada accepted with a nod. Considering her own misgivings about moving the school here, it was understandable that her staff had equal trepidation about getting too close to the mountain.

 

“I took a walk to inspect the progress yesterday evening. The forest was especially lovely with the wind moving through the trees. Soon we’ll be able to go inside without leaving the warded area, but for now that’s what I’d recommend.”

 

“Excellent,” Dimity was already staring in that direction, the foreboding shadow of the mountain pushed to the side in favor of excitement over exploring a new area. Clearly dedication to the job wasn’t their only motivator. The thought brought a fond smile to Ada’s lips despite her other worries.

 

Dimity had been her first hire as headmistress, Ada’s first true mentee, and she had a special place in her heart for them. The witch—a title that was slowly being reclaimed as one that could apply to any human with magic, after cis men had shed it in favor of ‘wizard’ five or six hundred years ago—had worked hard to develop a certain level of authority that was required when interacting with the students. But Ada was always pleased to see they hadn’t fully tempered their energetic spirit.

 

“Take the main doors out. There’s more room between the castle and the forest on that side, and you might want to check out the field as a potential spot for some of your classes.”

 

“Thanks, Ada!” Dimity rolled their neck, swinging their arms around and loosening their muscles. They waited just long enough for Imogen to clamber up their pant leg before starting a slow jog towards the exit Ada had indicated. “Oh! One last thing,” they turned around, still moving in place. “I don’t know how you did it, but I finished going through the new broom inventory. Whoever processed your request sent us everything we asked for, all in great condition! The flying lessons this year should go much more smoothly without having to worry about the brooms breaking down on the students.”

 

“Famous last words, Dimity,” Ada cautioned, but she didn’t mean it.

 

Dimity flashed her another grin before spinning on their heel and leaving the castle walls, and Ada found that she could breathe easier. Even though Dimity hadn’t stayed to keep watch with her, some of the gloom had lifted with their presence. After all, it was highly unlikely that the council would shut them down now.

 

Most of the new supplies they could reasonably expect to be approved had arrived the day before they had moved the castle, but the brooms had been a bigger ask. Those had only come in two days ago, by which point the council had had plenty of time to assess the situation and notify the relevant departments not to process requests from Cackle’s Academy if they had wanted to interfere. And even if the brooms _had_ slipped through somehow, it was doubtful that a whole substitute teacher would.

 

Ada kept that in mind as she looked around the grounds surrounding her; seeing them, and all the work that had gone into getting them ready, with fresh eyes.

 

She and Agatha had focused their energy on transporting the physical stone of the castle, leaving the living grounds behind to avoid stretching their resources too far. But Ada had been insistent on replicating as much of the original atmosphere as possible. She wanted to make the transition easier for the returning students, and she couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride at how much her little family had accomplished.

 

In only a few short days the grounds inside the castle walls had transformed.

 

The main courtyard she was standing in was filled with lush green grass, intersected by gravel pathways, one of which led to a small enclave just next to the west exit. There, frogs were busy croaking in approval at the man-made pond that Gwen and Algernon had spent a long few nights reconstructing. It was a special place for the two of them, and Ada was glad that at least she had been able to bring along the original wrought iron bench that overlooked the secluded area.

 

They weren't the only ones who had helped though, and while she couldn’t see it from here, she had inspected the Witchball courts in a smaller, side courtyard last night before her walk. Dimity and Geraldine had worked together on those, and Ada was still impressed that Dimity had managed to get through the experience without hexing Geraldine over one too many health and safety regulations. She should probably consider giving Dimity a raise.

 

And now, except for the mountain over them, and the baren patch of land where the herb garden would be, you would never know the difference. Ada smiled.

 

The clock chimed the quarter hour and she jumped. A shadow threatened to pass over her again, but she wouldn’t let it.

 

It was almost the start of the new term. She needed to focus on that and keep looking forward.

 

Ada raised her right hand, conjuring a picture of the space where the herb garden would grow in her mind. With a flick of her wrist, a miniature replica appeared before her. Pushing her glasses more firmly up her nose, she began walking around the model, occasionally reaching out and pointing her finger to leave a marker of where she thought some plant or other should go.

 

It was calming work, enjoyable, even if it was tinged with a hint of sadness that this was probably the one thing inside the castle that would never be the same.

 

But it wouldn’t have been, anyway, she knew. Each new potions teacher always placed their own personal touch on the garden. Constance had done a wonderful job with it during her time, and would have continued to do so if she had stayed, but life had led her elsewhere. Into the arms of Pippa Pentangle, actually, the headmistress of another school. Pippa had been trying to court Constance for ages, ever since they were at college together. Constance could be utterly oblivious sometimes though, and it had taken many attempts with ever lessening degrees of subtly. Finally, however, Constance had gotten the message. And now that she had transferred school’s with Ada’s blessing, the garden was due for a change.

 

Ada hoped to make a good start on it so that when a permanent replacement for Constance was found, whoever it was, would have something to work with.

 

Thinking of the potions position, Ada’s thoughts turned to the temporary fill-in, Hecate Hardbroom. She would probably only be with the school for a few weeks, yet Ada was curious about the woman.

 

During the hour or so Ada had spent with her yesterday, showing her around and introducing her to the other staff, the only thing Ada had been able gleam for sure about her character was that she was a private person. It had taken several pointed remarks to get her to even reveal her first name, and beyond that, the Hardbroom family crest on her watch, and the fact that her familiar was a chipmunk named Lunch, Ada knew nothing else.

 

Ada worried her bottom lip, contemplating that. Maybe it wasn’t so little after all. Familiars often said something about the witch or wizard they were bonded to. It was hard to imagine how something as small and vulnerable as a chipmunk fit with the guarded person she had met, but somehow, it must. And Ada wanted her to feel welcome, even if she was only going to be here for a little while.

 

Perhaps she would ask Hecate for assistance. As a substitute, working on the garden wasn’t technically part of her job. But if she accepted, it could be just the opportunity Ada needed to break down some barriers.

 

Ada placed another marker, circling off a small section for catnip, and added a note to put extra wards around that area to keep any wayward familiars away.

 

A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Before it could reignite her anxiety, Hecate herself stepped forwards, long black dress swirling around her ankles impressively.

 

And suddenly, Ada had something else other than the slowly ticking clock and the unfinished patch of land to worry about.

 

When they had met yesterday, Hecate had been shadowed by the forest behind her and the wide brim of her traveling hat. Once inside, there wasn’t enough natural light to really see. Now though, the morning sun was beaming down on the two of them, and Ada couldn’t look away.

 

Her eyes were drawn first to the sway of the dress, similar or maybe the same as Hecate had worn yesterday, but she couldn’t be sure. And honestly, she didn’t care. Not when the sun was striking the blue embroidery and bringing it to life. The movement pulled her gaze upwards and she followed without resistance over a thin, tapered waist, and then higher still to what would undoubtedly be striking collarbones if the dress was pulled away. She couldn’t linger there, however, not when the neck was just visible, an expanse of long, pale skin peeking through the tall collar, more tantalizing for only giving a hint. Then there was the face, the firm jaw and high cheekbones of a woman a few years younger than herself, that would be utterly devastating if she let her dark hair down to frame them.

 

And all of that was before Ada reached Hecate’s eyes. Without the hat, Ada could see them fully for the first time. They were a dark gray, unlike any she had ever seen before, and they were boring into her. Their intent was unreadable, but the intensity was on a level that people usually reserved for her more interesting sister. And Ada--

 

“Headmistress.”

 

The formal title brought her thoughts to a screeching halt, yanking her back to the present with a harshness she probably deserved. She looked away as her cheeks flushed with guilt and embarrassment. There was nothing wrong with desire, but Ada wasn’t used to it pulling at her so strongly, and certainly not from someone she was responsible for.

 

She really should have gotten out more this summer. But it was too late for that now. Ada was just going to have to be careful. And hope that Hecate hadn’t noticed her attentions.

 

She straightened her back, steading herself before meeting Hecate’s eyes again. It was just as consuming and incomprehensible as before, but this time, she was ready. Her voice only shook on the first word.

 

“Is everything all right, Miss Hardbroom?” Ada started to walk towards Hecate, letting the garden model vanish into mist. She could bring up her ideas later, when she had gotten herself better under control.

 

“Of course, Headmistress.” Hecate said, each word deliberate. “The academy handbook in the library states that the school opens promptly at 9 AM three days before the start of term, and that the event is marked with an assembly in the main courtyard. Though you and I appear to be the only ones here, so perhaps there has been some change?”  

 

“No, I mean, yes, but… you actually read that thing?” That wasn’t what Ada was expecting. The several hundred page volume hadn’t been used since her grandmother’s time. Ada had attempted to get through it once or twice out of curiosity in her youth, but she had always fallen asleep a few pages in.

 

But admitting that was no way to put Hecate at ease and make her relax in her current role.

 

“You’re right. The handbook does say that,” she tried to make it sound like she actually had read it, “but the book’s been out of date for years. We still open at the same time, but the assembly isn’t until the first day of term. If I had know you were going to read it I would have told you not to bother. I’m sorry if you spent too much of your time on it.”

 

“Why?” A frown formed on Hecate’s lips. Somehow, her eyes seemed to darken further, distracting Ada momentarially.

 

“Why am I sorry? Well--”

 

“No. Why do you have an outdated handbook. Rules and regulations are made to be followed. If the book is no longer accurate, it should be updated so that it can fulfil its proper function.”

 

“Yes, I suppose. But you see--”

 

“I will add that to my duties list then.” Hecate cut her off again, and Ada felt a flash of irritation. Hecate had hardly said two words to her in a row yesterday, hadn’t even thanked her after Ada had given her the traditional headmistress’s welcome, yet here she was, telling Ada off over a dusty handbook of all things. And while it was true that the book was out of date, it wasn’t like they paraded it around for all to see. It was on some unused shelf in the back of the library, its age marked on the spine.

 

Maybe a hedgehog or a porcupine would have been a better familiar. Clearly if there was anything soft and vulnerable inside this woman, it was surrounded by a wall of swords.

 

Without entirely meaning to, Ada’s eyes flicked over Hecate again, looking for the familiar that seemed to be absent. But then her gaze stilled, hovering over Hecate’s hands, and she found herself peering closer. Suddenly it was impossible not to notice how stiffly Hecate held those hands, fingers impeccably straight and slightly spread as if she didn’t quite know what to do with them. It was an uncertainty that was well hidden, but there nonetheless, and Ada softened.

 

While many substitute teachers had just as much training as full-time ones, they didn’t receive the same respect or credit for their work. It was understandable that Hecate might be worried that no one would take her seriously, and was overcorrecting. But that didn’t mean Ada could let her get away with it. She just had to figure out how to assert her authority without making the other woman feel belittled.  

 

She was still searching for the right words when Pendle’s muffled meow sounded to her left, and she turned her head to the side to see him walking towards the two of them. A chipmunk swung from his mouth by the scruff of its neck, obviously captured in the middle of attempted mischief.

 

Her eyes widened. This explained why Pendle hadn’t come to her side earlier when her anxiety had been mounting. He had been busy keeping another familiar in line. But for him to bring Lunch here was aberrant. Students could expect that older familiars would take a hand in guiding and correcting the behavior of their younger ones, but many adult witches or wizards would feel deeply insulted by the same action. Especially if it was in front of them. Pendle should know better than to behave like this. He could ruin any hope she had of forming a working relationship with Hecate.  

 

Striding forward hastily, she tried to draw Pendle’s attention, but he continued past her, firmly fixed on Hecate. Who, for her part, was staring back with equal weight. When Pendle stopped squarely in front of Hecate and meowed again, reprimanding the witch directly for whatever Lunch had been up to, Ada knew she was too late.

 

Hecate ducked her head, emotion evident in her eyes for the first time. And it wasn’t anger.

 

Ada blinked. Even if some, or most, of Hecate’s attitude from a moment ago had been bravado, she had still been on edge enough to openly criticize Ada, her superior. Yet now she was allowing herself to be chastised by an unknown familiar. And she was… sorry? Apologetic? Bashful, even? Ada wasn’t quite sure. She could only watch in astonishment as the scene continued to unfold.

 

Hecate held out her hand, bending stiffly at the waist. Not very far, but rather than meow at her again, Pendle rose to meet her more than halfway. He stood on his hindquarters and stretched out his neck until he could drop his charge into Hecate’s hand.

 

“Thank you for securing… Lunch.” Hecate spoke as the chipmunk scampered up her arm to her shoulder. Once there it looked out at the open field, as if contemplating jumping down and away, but Pendle let out a soft growl and the smaller creature thought better of it. Instead Lunch shimmied over Hecate’s collar and curled up around her neck, mostly hiding itself from view.

 

As Lunch settled, Pendle’s growl switched to a purr, and finally, he turned and trotted over to Ada. He rubbed against her briefly, letting her know all was right in his world again, and then settled a few feet away and promptly went about ignoring all of them as he began to give himself a bath.

 

Ada stared at him. Then back to Hecate.

 

Hecate’s face was once again masked and unreadable, but for a moment Ada had seen more.

 

She wanted to see it again.

 

The clock struck the hour.

 

“Look out, look out!” The frantic child’s voice from above was quickly followed by a panicked wordless yell, and Ada looked up to see a broomstick barreling towards her.

 

She moved on instinct, her right hand shooting out in the direction of the sound in a stopping motion. Next to her she saw Hecate raise her hand as well, presumably to perform a similar spell, but her magic never came. There was no need for it, as Ada had gotten there first.

 

The broom halted its erratic descent a few feet above the ground.

 

“Thank you, Miss Cackle,” the girl said breathily as she untangled herself, dropping in a clumsy dismount. She forgot the formal greeting entirely as she looked around, her twin brown braids swinging as she took in the mostly empty yard. “Oh no, am I late?” Her voice pitched higher in panic.

 

“You’re right on time, dear. The others will be arriving over the next few days.” As she said it, the last few moments caught up with her, and Ada realized it was true.

 

Her heart nearly burst in her chest from the relief. It was now one minute past the hour. They were open.

 

But she didn’t have time to celebrate. She turned to Hecate, but before she could introduce her new student, Hecate identified her.

 

“Mildred Hubble.” Hecate said.

 

Ada’s brow furrowed in first confusion, and then concern.

 

Mildred was a new first year, and she was from a magical family that had chosen to pursue less formal training for the past few generations. Mildred had met most of the teachers  during the entrance exam at the end of the last school year, but it was highly unlikely she and Hecate would have crossed paths before this. If Hecate recognized her, did that mean she had already memorized all the student files? That, on top of reading the guidebook, wouldn’t have left any time for sleep. And Ada couldn’t allow that. She had spent many nights working until dawn herself, but she was very careful not to overwork her staff. She wouldn’t have any of them put their health at risk for the job, not unless it was absolutely necessary to protect a student.

 

Ada made a mental note to talk to Hecate about it later.

 

While she had been thinking, Ada had vaguely heard Hecate introduce herself and her position, but now she tuned back in fully.

 

“Flying is a sacred part of magic,” Hecate said. “A witch who can’t fly properly has no business being on a broom. Yours will be confiscated until Mx. Drill has seen fit to let you have it back.” The broom in question vanished and the bags tied to it fell to the ground with a thump.

 

Mildred shuffled her feet as she mumbled an apology, her ears burning.

 

Hecate looked like she had more to say, but with the first student now in her care, Ada found it easier to slip into her headmistress persona. And while discipline was an important part of Ada’s role, so was support. It was important to balance the two carefully.

 

She caught Hecate’s eyes with a stern look, drawing on as much authority as she could muster and trying to signal her to lighten up. To her surprise, it worked. She felt a glimmer of triumph when Hecate pursed her lips before turning her attention back to the new student.

 

”However…” Mildred looked up at Hecate hopefully. “You are the only student to arrive at the time specified in the handbook, out of date as it may be. If you can follow other rules as well as that one, you might learn how to control your magic yet.”

 

The hope faded in Mildred’s eyes, and Ada sighed. That wasn’t exactly the response she was hoping for, but she supposed it would do for now. Though whatever had led Mildred to arrive so early, she was certain it had not been the handbook.

 

But she didn’t need to get into that with Hecate at this moment. The child was tired enough from her journey.

 

“Miss Hardbroom, why don’t you go tell my sister about our first arrival. Agatha can take care of notifying Mildred’s family that she’s landed while I get her settled in.” She smiled.

 

Hecate studied her for a few seconds, but just when Ada began to think she might refuse, she bowed her head.

 

“As you wish, Headmistress.” She vanished.

 

“Wow,” Mildred let out an impressed whisper from her side.

 

“Quite,” Ada responded, glad that Mildred seemed to be taking Hecate’s strict attitude with a degree of reverence and awe rather than fear. “Now, why don’t we send your bags to your room and head down to the kitchens? There’s no formal breakfast, but Mrs. Tapioca left a selection of food laid out for the staff, and you must be hungry after your trip. I’m sure we can find you something.”

 

Mildred nodded enthusiastically.

 

“This way, then,” Ada sent the bags off and then gestured towards the main doors, but then she paused mid-step as something occurred to her. “Just out of curiosity, why did you arrive so promptly?”

 

Ada normally waited in the courtyard for at least an hour after opening, and if she was going to leave it early now, she wanted to make sure there wasn’t a high probability that other students had gotten the same message and were also incoming.

 

“Some old witch at Schott’s Uniform Shop told me the arrival time had moved up.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“She said the rules were changing. Getting stricter.” The girl shrugged her shoulders. “But maybe she was just getting back at me.”

 

“Getting back at you?”

 

“Well, I kind of tripped over her dress. It tore.

 

“Ah. I see.” Ada said.

 

“I apologized and everything, but she was pretty mean about it.” Mildred put on an exaggerated crone voice. “Shape up, little girl. The magical world is changing. We’re going back to the old ways and there’s no place for inferior witches who can’t keep up.” She finished her impersonation and made a face.

 

Ada’s heart skipped a beat, and Pendle perked up his ears. “Old ways? She said that?”

 

Mildred nodded.

 

Ada leaned down so she could look directly into Mildred’s eyes. “You said Schott’s Uniform Shop? Was she a teacher?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“Was she wearing a school crest?”

 

“I don’t remember.” Mildred started to look worried.

 

Ada wasn’t sure there was anything she could do about a potential W-First supporter at another school, but she pressed one last time. “Did you hear a name?”

 

“Yes! I did!” Mildred perked up for a moment. Then her face fell again. “But I can’t...” She scrunched up her eyebrows. “She was there to get a uniform designed for a new school. I know she told the shop owner what it was going to be called...”

 

Ada remained quiet, giving her time to think.

 

“Maybe it was something like Roomhead? Tombhead? No! It was Broomhead! Broomhead’s Academy!” She beamed up at Ada, proud of remembering the answer.

 

For the first time in her life, Ada wished a student had it wrong.


	5. Chapter 4

Hecate materialized in the high, tower bedroom she had been assigned yesterday, stumbling as the powerful touch of Ada’s command pulled at her mind. Her magic wanted to give in and redirect her to Agatha’s office, but Hecate wouldn’t let it. Not yet. Not until she was the one firmly in control.

 

Taking two shaky steps forward, she caught herself against the standard issue desk in front of her. The rough, worn surface pressed into her palms and she concentrated on the physical sensation to ground herself in place. Slowly, the magic of the transfer spell faded, and with each breath the scent of snowbells filling her lungs dissipated just that much more.

 

“You’re fine,” she whispered, closing her eyes and bowing her head as the words washed over her. “You did it. You held your ground. You… you’re...” her voice trailed off. It didn’t feel like a victory.

 

Hecate shivered. She had tried to prepare herself, burrowing into rules and regulations to provide some sort of armor, but things had begun to unravel as soon as she had met Ada’s eyes. Her senses had once again been flooded with the presence of Ada’s magic, and unlike during the tour yesterday—where after an initial few questions Ada had mostly been focused on either different parts of the castle, or on brief introductions to other teachers—this time Hecate hadn’t been so lucky.

 

What felt like the full weight of Ada’s attention had been on her, and under that intensity, there was no denying that snowbells meant home. That they meant strength, and perseverance, and a land of ice and snow that called to Hecate more deeply than the magic of any other witch or wizard she had ever met before. And when Ada had stopped floundering and managed to turn to Hecate with confidence and poise... Hecate hadn’t wanted to resist.

 

So she had transferred here instead of to Agatha’s office, just to prove she could.

 

Hecate clenched her jaw.

 

Was here really so much better?

 

She could feel it under her fingers; the desk that was nothing like the large tree stumps or stone slabs she had used in the past, designed and sized perfectly for the average adult human. Just like everything else in this space. Though at least the desk was useful, unlike the other furnishings. As if she would ever use the single, metal framed bed, with sheets that could twist around her body and trap her in place. Or the large storage cabinet, wide and tall enough for someone to hide within, ready to leap out and attack at any--

 

Her eyes flew open and she snapped her head to the side, heart pounding as the cabinet door flew open at her command.

 

It was empty.

 

Of course it was empty. This might not be much of a safe haven—a witch’s room inside a witching tower—but she had put her own wards up around its walls. Even if someone managed to get through those, she would still sense their magic.

 

And there was a window, one that opened north, towards the mountain. It was too small and narrow for her to do more than look through, but with the school wards tuned in to her presence, she couldn’t slip away anyway without them raising immediate alarm.

 

So this room was enough. It had to be. And there was no Ada. Because ultimately, that _was_ better. Hecate would be able to recognize that as soon as she put an end to this emotional nonsense and concentrated on why she was here.

 

She turned back to the desk. It was already piled high with historical reference sources, potions textbooks, and student records, all neatly sorted and categorized according to their urgency and usefulness. And all of them were… safe. Paper couldn’t hurt her, and books were something she had never had to fear.

 

Hecate took a breath.

 

What was coming wasn’t safe; students pouring in, _teaching_. The magic of children was too underdeveloped to affect her the same way an adult’s could, but she would still be surrounded. The more knowledge she had though, the more prepared she would be, and the easier she would find it to cling to her facts and figures and purpose.

 

Lifting her right hand, Hecate’s fingers found their way to the watch around her neck. She trailed over the chain, concentrating on the tasks ahead of her with each link. When she spoke, her voice was completely under her control.

 

“Act human.” That was the most important. Everything relied on her ability to make the people in this place keep believing she was only that.

 

“Become indispensable.” Hecate didn’t want to be here, but now that she was, she was positioned perfectly to rid the area of the threat Cackle’s Academy imposed. She couldn't begin to do that, however, until she understood humans and this modern magical world enough to know what would accomplish that aim, and what would only make things worse. She needed time. Time she might not have if they moved forward with their plans to find a permanent replacement.

 

“Don’t get caught.” Her hand slipped away from the watch chain for a brief moment, checking to make sure the small vial tucked between her dress and corset was still there. It contained a potent forgetfulness potion stolen from the stores last night. She didn’t know when or if an actual substitute teacher was going to show up, but if they did, the mist that would emerge from the broken bottle would allow Hecate to erase the minds of all those in the vicinity while she took care of the problem.

 

“Win. You have to win.” And she would. No matter the cost. No matter how many more dead witches and wizards she had to leave in her wake.

 

Mildred’s face flashed before her, the look of fear as the child had come plummeting down on the broom, and Hecate jerked.

 

“No,” she shook her head, but the image lingered, and her stomach turned.

 

Killing children was something the humans did, not dragons.

 

As the end of the war had approached, with horrors committed on both sides, that had been the one line the dragons had never been willing to cross. But when Mildred had come towards her, with Ada’s scent drowning out all else, Hecate hadn’t been able to tell the difference. The magic she had summoned to defend herself would have killed the girl if Ada hadn’t gotten there first.

 

And then there would have been nothing left to separate her, from _them_.

 

She yanked her hand away from the chain. Hecate no longer knew what she was capable of, or how far she would go. But she was still a dragon.

 

And she didn’t want to think about this any longer.

 

Besides, she had work to do. She had to report Mildred’s arrival.

 

Straightening her shoulders and clearing her mind, Hecate focused on Agatha’s office. But before she could summon her magic, a chirping around her neck drew her attention.

 

“Not now,” she ignored the sound, willing the creature to go back to sleep. It was bad enough that she hadn’t been able to eat it. She didn’t need it making more of a nuisance of itself than it already had.

 

It chirped again.

 

“I said--”

 

It was squirming, pulling itself up and over her collar and racing down the arm still resting on the desk. She made a grab for it that was more of a swat, but it easily jumped over the pathetic attempt and clambered up the tallest book tower. Once there, it settled down and started licking its paws, trying to smooth down the fur on the back of its neck. It couldn’t quite reach, and its stare was accusatory.

 

Involuntarily, she stepped back, arms folding around her middle as guilt stirred in her chest. Its fur was ruffled because of Pendle, because Hecate had brought it here and claimed it as her familiar, and because it had probably just wanted to go home.

 

She wasn’t the only one who was trapped in this place.

 

But it was just a chipmunk, just food. It was…

 

In the time before the war, not all witches and wizards had dragons as their familiars. Even with the different elemental branches, there hadn’t been enough of her kind to go around. But animals who lived near or in places of magic often became something _more_ , which enabled them to serve as familiars as well. Maybe Cackle’s academy had just moved here, but this chipmunk had grown up in the shadow of the ice dragon’s mountain.

 

It was still looking at her like that. Just like Pendle had been. And Pendle wasn’t just a cat.

 

Swallowing, Hecate uncrossed her arms and approached slowly.

 

“I…” she didn’t know what to say.

 

Hecate had eaten many chipmunks and other creatures large and small over the years, and her only rules about how to deal with her food revolved around eating when you could and not wasting time playing with it.

 

But if Lunch wasn’t food, she owed it—him?—more consideration than any human.

 

“I’m… I had...”

 

Lunch stopped trying to fix his fur, tilting his head as if waiting. A number of excuses flashed through Hecate’s mind, reasons she could list to explain she had no choice, but justification didn’t make things better. All the justifications in the world wouldn’t have mattered to her, if she had been scooped up by a witch.

 

She let out a frustrated growl. There were so many familiars in this castle, and even more were about to arrive once the older students landed. The ones she had met thus far seemed happy enough, but the days where Hecate naively believed that familiars could ever be equal partners were gone. These just didn’t know any better. But Hecate did, and she wished she could free all of them.

 

That was impossible.

 

The best she could do was treat them with the deference they deserved.

 

“I’m... sorry,” she said at last. It was all she had to offer.

 

He blinked at her, tilting his head. And then he spun around and presented his ruffled fur.

 

Furrowing her brow Hecate hesitated. It couldn’t be that easy; forgiveness for a simple apology. It couldn’t, and yet...

 

He chirped impatiently, and, with at much delicacy as she could manage, she reached out to touch him. Her whole hand was too large, and she drew back until she was able to curl all but two of her fingers against her palm. Trying again, she ran them along his back, fixing the out of place hair until it was smooth.

 

“I only need the desk and a corner of the floor for myself,” she said. “I’ll bring in some plants so we can turn the rest of room into a small forest for you. And when this is over, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you get home safe and sound.”

 

Hecate swallowed a lump in her throat. Sometimes, her power wasn’t enough. But she would try.

 

Spinning around, Lunch nuzzled into her hand.

 

“Thank you,” she bowed as deeply as she could before her back protested, and he used the opportunity to jump from the books to her collar, settling himself around her neck once more.

 

It was time to go.

 

//////////////////////////

 

The dark metal nameplate was the first thing Hecate saw when she transferred to the hallway outside Agatha’s office; ‘Deputy Headmistress’ cut into it in large, grand lettering. It was different from the simpler, wooden identifiers on the other doors, but Hecate didn’t linger on it to wonder why. She was too busy checking her surroundings.

 

Just to be thorough.

 

Just to make sure she knew where the most defensible place to stand would be, should she need it. The small nook half hidden behind a suit of armor was exactly where she remembered it from yesterday. She didn’t like the thought of being backed into a corner if she was unable to transfer for any reason, but it was the only spot in this particular stretch of hallway that offered any cover. It was better to know about it, than not.

 

She reminded herself she wasn’t going to need it. Because no one was going to find out what she was.  

 

Raising her hand, she knocked on the door.

 

It opened with a draft of an autumn storm, the muggy scent of rain that was Agatha’s unique signature. And something else, a second witch Hecate hadn’t been expecting.

 

She didn’t flinch.

 

The other witch wasn’t… weak, per say, but next to Agatha, her presence was minimal. And as long as Agatha was there, Hecate didn’t have to worry about being betrayed by her own weakness. Because while Agatha was just as powerful as Ada, where Ada’s presence came with false promises of protection and safety, Agatha’s fizzled with the potential for lightning.

 

It made her scar ache.

 

Not much, Agatha’s lightning was neutral, not filled with the same darkness as the spell that burned its way across Hecate’s flesh. But the pain provided a counterpoint to the seductive pull of a witch whose rain could so easily turn to ice.

 

So Agatha was easier to be around, or at least, as easy as any witch could be.

 

“Deputy, Miss Gullet,” Hecate announced herself, taking a step into the room. Her left leg protested the movement, the ache intensifying as she came closer. But the brace held, and she suppressed her grimace.

 

“Ah, Miss Hardbroom.” Agatha began gathering up some papers she and Geraldine Gullet—the health and safety professor—had been pouring over. Agatha sat directly in front of the door, in a grand, throne-like chair whose natural wood coloring had been lost under a dark stain and glossy finish which matched the desk. Geraldine stood to the side, in profile, leaning over the desk.

 

“Whatever you want, you’ll have to come back later.” Geraldine glanced up. “Agatha and I were just in the middle of some very important--”

 

“Nonsense, Geraldine.” Agatha cut her off as she opened the top, center drawer of her desk and shuffled the papers into it. The drawer closed with the click of a lock. “Our business is nothing that can’t wait, and you know I pride myself on always being available to any student or staff member in need.”

 

Geraldine frowned, but Agatha held her gaze and after a moment, she looked away.

 

“Fine. I’ll be in my office. You can let me know when you’re ready to resume.” Geraldine turned, one hand at her belt to keep the bat sleeping on it from swinging.

 

“Miss Hardbroom, if you please?” Her voice was clipped as she indicated the door, and Hecate sidestepped to make room for her to pass.

 

“I’m sorry about that,” Agatha spoke as the door closed. “Geraldine can be a bit… difficult with people she doesn’t know. But just give her a few days and she’ll come around.”

 

Hecate heard Agatha, but her concentration was on the door, her breath catching at the dull thud it made as it swung shut. It was a small room, and now, the only exit was blocked.

 

It was an irrational reaction though. She knew Agatha wasn’t going to attack.

 

Forcing air back through her lungs, Hecate let Agatha’s words replay in her head, trying to figure out how she was supposed to respond. Geraldine had seemed… annoyed? But wouldn’t anyone, when their work was interrupted? Was she supposed to be offended?

 

She didn’t care about getting along with any of the people here, as long as they needed her.

 

“Of course, Deputy.” Agreement seemed like the best option, and Agatha smiled. It must have been an acceptable response.

 

“Now, come in,” Agatha waved a hand forward, and Hecate moved to follow the direction, navigating past several impressive display cases filled with various school awards and achievements.

 

She almost frowned when she saw them.

 

That was another discrepancy in the handbook, which specified the importance of housing school honors in a main area. Clearly, quite a bit had changed.

 

But that could be good for her, actually. The more there was to update, the more her efforts would show her indispensability. Not to mention it would also allow her to research without raising suspicions.

 

Hecate filled the information away and refocused.

 

“Sit, please,” Agatha indicated the chair in front of the desk; a rickety, uncomfortable thing with far too many knobs.

 

Hecate eyed it suspiciously. She would prefer to stand, but her leg twinged and she decided it was better to take her weight off it now, rather than risk giving away her failings if any pain slipped through.

 

Stiffly, Hecate lowered herself into the chair, sitting straight and rigid as far forward as she could so the wooden spokes wouldn’t poke into her back. She had to blink against the light as the ornate floor lamp behind Agatha shone into her eyes, putting her in a spotlight.

 

“What can I do for you?” Agatha leaned forward. “Is it about your clothes?”

 

“My clothes?” Hecate didn’t understand, but as her eyes finished adjusting she could see that Agatha was looking at her intently, her gaze moving over Hecate’s dress in careful detail.

 

Hecate’s hands twitched uncomfortably.

 

It was too much scrutiny. She didn’t think she was wearing the outfit wrong, but if she had missed something… something obvious that a human would know... Agatha was still smiling though, wider now that Hecate had accepted her invitation to sit, so whatever she’d done wrong with her clothes couldn’t be that bad.

 

She pressed her hands flat against the tops of her thighs to keep them from twitching again.

 

“Well, all your things, really.” Agatha responded. “Ada mentioned that you didn’t have any bags with you when you arrived. If you sent them on and they haven’t shown up, I can look into that for you.” Her eyes dipped lower, taking in even more of Hecate’s attire. “You just seem to be wearing the same dress as yesterday, and I thought you might be anxious for a fresh outfit…” Agatha finally looked back up at Hecate’s face. “Not that it’s not a beautiful dress.”

 

“I…” Hecate trailed off.

 

As far as Hecate had known, the majority of the humans in her day had only had one or two sets of clothes. Witches and wizards in particular hadn’t needed more as they could use magic to clean them regularly. It was what Hecate had done. But now that she thought about it, the textured, red suit jacket Agatha wore was decidedly different from the black one she had on yesterday, and earlier Ada has also appeared in a new outfit.

 

The storage cabinet in her room suddenly made sense. It was shaped that way to hang additional clothes, not store random possessions in high stacks. Yet another example of human frivolity, but one she would have to adopt it to fit in.

 

“I have an infinity pocket I haven’t unpacked yet. I plan to once we’re done here.” Hecate spoke quickly, before the silence could drag on. A simple transmutation spell on the dress she had would give her the appearance of more clothes, without revealing she hadn’t known she needed them to begin with.

 

Agatha’s eyes widened, and then sharpened. “A woman of talent. I like that.”

 

Hecate’s throat went dry. In her haste to cover up one mistake, she had made another.

 

Infinity pockets were incredibly useful, able to store anything non-organic and non-magic-infused, and their contents could be accessed at any time and place by its user.

 

But they were also very rare. Not only did the initial spell to create one require a lot of hard to find ingredients, but also an immense amount of power and skill. After that they continued to exist without effort, but they weren’t transferable, so they could only be used by the person who had made them. And while saying she had one hadn’t been a lie—it was how she had been able to travel with research materials during the war—no one who knew about it would underestimate her magic ability.

 

It was too late to take it back now though. The only thing she could do was make it work to her advantage. Perhaps this would give her enough credibility to make them want to keep her on.

 

“Thank you, Deputy. It has proved quite useful.”

 

“I can imagine,” Agatha nodded, her teeth gleaming through her smile. “Now then. If that wasn’t the reason, what was?”

 

“One of the students, Mildred Hubble, has arrived. Her family needs to be notified.”

 

“So soon?” Agatha raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t wait for a response. Pulling a pen and paper from a side drawer, she placed them on the otherwise pristine desk and scribbled out a few hasty lines of text.

 

“There, that should do it.” Agatha sent the page off with a flick of her wrist and set the pen down. “Was there any more official business to take care of?”

 

“No, Deputy.”

 

“Excellent. Then how would you like to accompany me on another tour of the castle while we become acquainted? I know it must have been a whirlwind yesterday, and my sister, bless her, is more sentimental than practical. You probably heard half an hour about the mural in the Great Hall and only a minute or two on your own classroom.”

 

It wasn’t true, Ada had been very thorough on all subjects, but Hecate didn’t see that it mattered. Her scar was starting to throb and she was ready for this interaction to be over.

 

“I should really unpack,” she made to stand. “And you have work--”

 

“Nothing pressing,” Agatha beat her too it, jumping to her feet and coming around the desk before Hecate could rise. “There will be plenty of time to get to it later. And it’s important for you to get to know the school before classes start.”

 

Hecate craned her neck up, her heart skipping as the witch loomed over her. She couldn’t stand without knocking into Agatha, but she also couldn’t stay here. It was too vulnerable.

 

Agatha was going to notice how much she was sweating.

 

Lunch popped his head up, his soft fur moving against her skin reassuringly, and a moment later he was on her shoulder. Then he was in her lap, launching himself to the floor near Agatha’s feet, and the witch let out a small gasp as she jerked away. Racing around the floor, he drove Agatha back another step, and then disappeared into a small hole in the baseboard.

 

“I didn’t see your familiar there,” Agatha was slightly breathless, her hand on her chest. “Your collar is very… high.”

 

“I should go after him,” Hecate rose before Agatha could move to block her in again, hoping her own voice didn’t betray her relief. Lunch wasn’t really trying to get away again, she was sure of that. He would be waiting for her somewhere, but Agatha didn’t know that, and he had given her an excuse to escape. When she got back to her room she was going to make it into the best forest she could.

 

“Surely he can take care of himself.” Agatha regained her composure, standing taller as her hand fell back to her side.

 

“It’s a new place, I don’t want him to get into any trouble.”

 

Agatha looked doubtful, but then she sighed, shaking her head as she returned to her seat behind the desk. “Another time then. I confess, I’ve never had a familiar of my own. Sometimes I’m not sure what needs to be done, or not done, when they’re concerned.”

 

“You don’t have a familiar?” It was out of Hecate’s mouth before she could stop herself, and even with the pain mounting now that she was standing, she paused.

 

She knew she hadn’t met Agatha’s familiar yet, but she had assumed it liked to wander as Pendle did. If Agatha didn’t have one though… did Agatha have reservations about the practice? Did she disapprove of binding another living creature?

 

Hecate would never trust a witch, but it was just possible that sometime during her stay here, she might need an ally; a tool to help her accomplish her aim. Perhaps she’d met the one witch marginally less morally abhorrent than the others.

 

“Yes, well--”

 

The door crashed open and Hecate spun around.

 

“Agatha, we need-- oh, Miss Hardbroom. You’re still here.” Snowbells infiltrated the room.

 

It didn’t matter. Ada’s presence wasn’t overshadowed by Agatha’s the way Geraldine's had been, but at the same time, Agatha was probably the one person in this place whose power could stand up to Ada. So even as the pain lessened, the burning flesh of Hecate’s scar cooling as Agatha’s lightning lost its full potency, it didn’t disappear completely. Hecate could still cling to it as her shield.

 

But she also couldn’t stay. Ada was upset, and while whatever caused that might be something Hecate could exploit, she had already made her excuses. She couldn’t backtrack without appearing suspicious.

 

“I was just leaving,” she said.

 

“I--, yes. Thank you.” Ada offered her an apologetic smile, and for a brief second, Agatha faded into the background. Hecate transferred away before she could smile in return.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you are enjoying this! I'm also on tumblr under the same username, so come say hi if you're so inclined :)


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